


Solitude

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Sad Geralt, geralt has unresolved trauma, i hurt my own feelings writing this, just a look into his psyche, somone pls give geralt a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: Geralt prefers to be alone.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach
Kudos: 34





	Solitude

Alone was what Geralt did best. He worked alone, he often traveled alone. Towns and cities were noisy and smelly and far too much for his heightened senses, so the solitude allowed him a chance to rest.

Alone, Geralt can escape….everything. Because when he's around people, he's haunted by reminders.

Mothers dragging children out of his path in the streets remind him of blood slick and sticky on his skin, bitter copper tang burning his nose.

The acidic fear-scent that clings to people reminds him of his own churning gut and elevated heart rate as his vision went dim, sure that this close call would finally be his last.

Alone, there are still reminders. Ghosts that torment his sleeping hours and memories that haunt him when he wakes. 

Women screaming with blood spattered on their faces, scrambling backwards and pleading with him not to hurt them.  _ He was never going to. _

Two figures he dimly thinks might be a memory of his parents, backs turned to him and walking away, never looking back no matter how loudly he cried out.  _ Why was he never good enough? _

Doors being slammed in his face when he returned with the unfortunate news that, though the monster was slain, he hadn't arrived in time to save the victims. Leaving him alone in the pouring rain, heightened hearing allowing him to hear the mournful wailing inside.  _ He's sorry he failed, even though it isn't enough. _

Great beasts with red eyes, white eyes, black eyes, with fur or with pale skin, with fangs and claws and knives, chasing him, thirsting for his blood.  _ Is there nothing else for him? _

Bones breaking. Flesh burning. Lungs aching desperately for air. Blood bubbling in his mouth, throat too raw to scream any longer. Breaking apart and being rebuilt into something new, something monstrous, powerful enough to kill the other monsters and inspire fear and awe in everyone who met him.  _ He didn't choose this. _

Geralt shook his head like a dog trying to rid its fur of water, rousing himself from his thoughts to look around himself.

Except for Roach, he was alone in the woods. Heaving a sigh, Geralt went to her. Unpicketed her from the tree and reaffixed his saddle bags. Patted her neck and spoke quietly to her about nothing in particular while she snorted at him and bumped her head against his chest.

He soothed her, ran a hand through her mane until the very slight trembling of his fingers went still once more.

Yes, it was better for Geralt to be alone. Alone, he could run as far and as fast as he pleased. Maybe even fast enough to outrun his past.

Geralt swung himself up onto her saddle and dug his heels into her sides, squeezing his thighs. Tossing her head, Roach broke into a canter. He focused on her steady stride to avoid any more thinking.

After everything he'd done in his long life, being alone was what he deserved.


End file.
